Too Far from Home
by story2tell
Summary: Transported into a parallel universe, Harry finds himself in the shadow of an evil growing force. Amidst old and new faces and the chance for a family that he never had, Harry must come to the terms that although there are two worlds, there can only be one hero. *AU Dimension travel No slash, Abuse*
1. The Letter

Hello!! This story was inspired by this wonderful trilogy that includes The Darknees Within, A part of Me, and Deepest Reflections. If you haven't already read them, then i suggest you do for they are amazing!! I was intrigued by a dark Harry and I wanted to write my own dimension travelling fic since i have read so many but liked so few. And i have to do what my muse tells me! FYI, don't expect regular updates. I write when I'm in the mood and I usually write the same chapter over and over again as I tweak and correct. hope you like the beginning chapter!

_After suffering the graveyard, Harry is once again sent back to his relatives for his summer before Fifth Year where the wards are supposed to keep him safe from the outside world which continued to grown more and more violent. Meanwhile, Voldemort's lust for power expands unimaginably and instead of one world to own, he wants both. Joining forces with a parallel Voldemort who has never fallen and whose power has climaxed, they work together to become an unstoppable force. But there is one mere fourteen-year-old boy standing in the way of this ultimate victory._

_ Harry Potter._

_ Transported into a parallel dimension, Harry finds himself in the shadow of a evil growing force. Amidst old and new faces and the chance for a family that he has never had, Harry must come to the terms that although there are two worlds, there can only be one hero._

* * *

_There's a raging sea_

_Right in front of me_

_Wants to pull me in_

_Bring me to my knees…_

**Dawn** broke the cold night with a haze of pearl gray. The earth laid still and silent in the early hours and the sun remained hidden behind morning clouds. With the dawn came a fog, a heavy white mist that laced the ground like a serpent, swift and silent. It obscured the pristine neighborhood of Privet Drive until it was only a smear of shapes in the grayness. The tiny black sparrows didn't flit around as usual with their songs of a breaking dawn but remained with puffed feathers on their branches for the summer morning was oddly chilly and the grass was powdered with white frost.

While the rest of the neighborhood slept on unaware, a scrawny fourteen-year-old boy shuddered awake from a gripping nightmare, gasping and shaking; fists clutched a pillow with white knuckles. He raised his face, red and sweaty, from a crusted brown pillow that smelled severely of metallic. For a moment, he didn't know where he was and what had happened. He hesitantly touched his fingers to the skin under his nose; the tips came away flecked with dried blood.

Harry quietly groaned as the previous events of last night flooded him with horrible memories. He dropped his forehead back onto the stained pillow, breathing heavily, the echo of his heart beat pounding in his ears. Fear curdled his blood until he was shaking so hard his teeth chattered. It had been many, many years since his uncle had resorted to such physical violence. Even since Harry first started Hogwarts, his uncle had backed off in fear of being discovered by the wizards of the school, so Harry hadn't expected the overweight man to come at him with such force.

_Calm, Harry Potter, you just need to calm down. No use getting worked up. Panic will just make it worse._

Slowly, gingerly, Harry rose to a sitting position and gritted his teeth at the gash in his side pulled painfully. Bracing himself with one elbow, Harry carefully pulled the worn plaid leg of his pajama pants till it displayed his swollen knee. For a moment, Harry just stared at the joint with disgust and disbelief. The skin was black, blue and purple and he could see the pieces of the bone straining against skin. Gingerly, he touched it and winced at the flash of pain that it brought.

There was no way he was going anywhere on this thing.

Harry carefully laid himself back down, head on his ruined pillow, unable to straighten his knee. He ignored the rest of his injuries, not really wanting to know why his side burned with pain and felt hot and sticky. What he didn't know couldn't hurt him. The world spun slowly around him, forcing him to remember the time when he had ridden a carousel at a fair. He had sat on a chestnut brown horse, hands clenching the cool metal pole with sweaty six-year-old hands. Sweaty hands that continued to slip from the metal but he returned them each time for fear of falling. Round and round and round it went. The slow rotation held an almost surreal quality to it as he went round…and…round…and…round…a carousel is a terrible place to be if one has motion sickness. He remember that his vomit had been yellow, like the color of the lemon pop he had licked and he remembered the nearby children screaming in disgust as the vomit spread like a growing flower on the metal deck and dripped over the side, dotting the sidewalk with putrid yellow pearls.

Harry hated the color yellow.

He closed his eyes slowly, feeling that familiar nausea creep almost stealthily into his stomach where the meager contents began to roil in protest. Even in the gray-darkness, the world seemed to gyrate. The bed beneath him swayed and lurched, adding to the nausea curdling his gut. Harry couldn't help but groan, wishing he had a cool glass of water to sip or even one of Pomphrey's nasty potions to calm his stomach.

Harry might have fallen asleep, he wasn't really sure but the next moment he suddenly heard a soft hooting noise breaking into his dizziness. Harry was jolted from his dazed state and he was surprised to see a black owl hovering outside his barred window, looking very indignant. For a moment, Harry could only stare at the creature the color of midnight, wondering if it would be worth the effort and pain of getting up and moving towards the window to reach through the bars. The screeching of the owl quickly made up his mind.

"Shut-up!" Harry snapped in a hissed whisper, his eyes darting towards the door, expecting to see his purple-faced uncle to come barging in, angry to be woken up by his nephew's freakiness. Gingerly, Harry pulled himself across the bed, his twisted leg dragging painfully behind him. The owl watched him impassively as he pushed up the window frame and reached for the letter between the rusted bars. He was curious for he didn't recognize the owl as belonging to anyone he knew. The owl nipped at his fingers as he grasped the parchment, a lurch of hope jumping within his chest made him forget the stinging pain of the beak. Maybe it was from Sirius. He dearly wished it _was _from Sirius. Since Hedwig had gone hunting, Harry had no way of contacting the outside world until she returned. Now he would be able to send out a vague letter of distress, and maybe, just maybe, Sirius would come to rescue him from this hell hole and take him away.

Fumbling awkwardly with the envelope marked Harry J. Potter, which he should've noted as strange but didn't, he pulled out the parchment inside. Something small fell out and landed next to his propped up elbow but he ignored it as he watched with a horrified expression as the black owl gave another hoot and flew away, not even giving him a chance to respond back.

"Damn!" he muttered, fists clenched and face splotched with red. "Damn, damn, _damn_!"

The owl became a speck in the cloudy sky, than nothing at all, leaving Harry with sinking stomach and prickling eyes.

_Calm, calm, calm, calm. _He silently coached himself, breathing deeply in order to slow his pounding heart. He forced himself to look down at the object which had fallen from the envelope and he lifted it with a furrowed brow, studying the intricate carvings on the rather rustic looking beads. The bracelet looked well worn and somewhat brittle. The colors varied from black, navy blue, and twilight purple, reminding him rather distantly of the colors of fresh bruise. He handled it carefully; afraid of breaking something that looked so important.

"What are you?" he mused quietly, rolling the beads around with his fingertips. Who would've sent him such a confusing gift? He had no need of bracelets; he couldn't remember ever wearing any kind of jewelry in his life. Even though the bracelet was rather pretty and unique, it looked as though it was meant more for a girl than a boy. And there was no way Harry Potter would be caught wearing girly jewelry.

Maybe it was a prank, something to just poke fun at him. Ron? Fred and George? Definitely not Hermione. Maybe Sirius? He was a marauder after all.

Harry turned his attention to the letter, hoping to solve the mystery. His face drained of color as he read the words and he felt his blood run cold.

A violent, forceful tug at his navel and Harry Potter disappeared in a whirl of smearing colors and shapes. He didn't have time to comprehend what had happened except the fact that it couldn't be good. He fell and fell and fell, hurtling through space and time at breakneck speed. It could've been years, it could've been seconds but Harry had lost all sense of time and meaning fell quickly through the seams of his mind leaving him only panic and fear. Fear and panic.

Back in Harry's little room, where the walls were ugly gray and the bars on the window gave the effect of a prison cell, the letter he had been holding fluttered harmlessly in the breeze that wafted through the window before settling inconspicuously on the bedroom floor.

No one stirred.

***

Many hours later a group of strangely dressed people landed quietly on the pristine lawn of number 4 Privet Drive. The house was dark and quiet when they opened the door. Remus stepped cautiously over the threshold and ignited the tip of his wand with a deft flick, blinking quickly as he let his eyes adjust to the sudden white light flooding the hall. He took a moment to study his surroundings, noting that everything was immaculate and not even a frame was off-tilt. He walked deeper into the house, passing a cupboard with rusted brown bolts but not really paying any second heed to it.

_Too clean. _He thought, wrinkling his nose as he turned a slow full circle, letting his wand light give him a three-sixty view of the Dursleys' house hold.

"Anything, Moody?" Nymphadora whispered behind Remus, igniting her wand as well.

"Nothing. Not even the boy." The man answered gruffly, his stumped leg creating a dull echo each time it hit the linoleum. Remus turned and saw the electric blue eye spinning rather sickeningly in its socket. He furrowed his brow in thought.

"He _must _be here," Remus murmured. "The guard said that Harry didn't leave the house with his relatives." He headed for the staircase, ignoring the cupboard again. The advance guard followed him silently; the only sound heard was the creaking of the steps with each footfall that was made.

With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Remus just _knew _that the door with the chained and bolted locks was Harry's.

"Those prats!" Nymphadora spat, her hair turning a violent shade of blood red; she must have come to the same conclusion as well.

Alastair pointed his wand at the door, "_Alohamora_."

The locks jumped instantly apart and the door slowly, almost ominously opened. For a moment no one moved, poised for anything to happen. Finally, after waiting several minutes in tense silence, Remus stepped forward and reached his wand light into the room.

"Harry?" he called clearly. "Harry, it's Professor Lupin. We've come to take you away."

No answer. Pushing the door open all the way, Remus entered the room.

"Careful, Lupin, it could be a trap," Alastair said warningly. But Remus wasn't listening. Instead he was staring in horror. Staring at the pillow hanging halfway off the bed, splattered grotesquely with dried blood. He saw, with a blanching face, that the bed and the carpet around it were stained also. By the looks of it, the blood had been there for many hours, already brown and cracked. It was like walking in on a scene from a muggle horror film.

Simultaneously, groans and sounds of frustration filled the room as each of the guard noted what Remus was staring fixatedly at.

"Oh hell," Nymphadora whispered in revulsion, her fingers brushing his arms in what could have been comfort if she hadn't been shaking.

Remus could feel his heart pounding furiously in his chest, he could feel the hot sweat beading his face and neck as adrenaline induced nausea shot through his like bubbling acid and he swallowed once, twice, three times. His fingers clenched his wand convulsively, his eyes darting for a target to unleash the fury racking his body.

_"No._" he ground out forcefully. He hadn't known the boy very well but in the short span of time that Remus had spent with him, Remus had grown attached to the waif who literally screamed innocence yet at the same time carried the weight of the world on his too thin shoulders. He didn't see the boy as a replica of James as Severus and Sirius had so many times fallen guilty off, but as his own cub that needed security and protection. If Remus disagreed with Dumbledore about anything, it would be sending Harry here to Lily's sister and brother-in-law. He didn't know if the wards had fallen or if Harry's relatives had gotten violent but as Remus stared at the sight before, he couldn't conjure up a good ending. How could he with this bloody mess?

He could only pray desperately, vainly that whoever had the poor child would be shown some sort of mercy. Though he knew Voldemort had none.

Remus slowly lifted the crimson and brown stained pillow and clutched it to his chest, his eyes burning. He buried his face into it, smelling the metallic twang and feeling the pain and fear the boy must have felt. He didn't notice that his foot was pinning a thick bit of parchment to the carpet, he didn't notice the red inked words scribbled across the page.

"Remus?" a hand on his shaking shoulders brought him back from a place where time knew nothing and grief knew everything. He lifted his head and glared at Nymphadora whose face was white and lip was trembling. "We have to get back to headquarters. We have to notify Dumbledore. There might be a chance…maybe Snape has heard something…"

No one said a word but the feeling of failure and shame pierced the air. Remus was suddenly angry, his rage became animalistic. Wasn't somebody supposed to be watching the house at all times? Wasn't somebody supposed to ensure that Harry stayed safe and secure? But Harry had obviously suffered. To what extinct, Remus didn't know, but no one had been there to help the child. No one.

"Remus?"

Remus nodded, still holding the pillow closely to his chest as he followed with deadened legs to the apparation spot and turned, disappearing with a resounding crack.

***

Sirius was on his feet in a flash when he heard the opening and closing of the front door, heart pounding with the excitement at the prospect of seeing his godson. Molly and Albus stood up as well but the rest at the meeting stayed seated. Snivellus rolled his eyes and sneered but Sirius didn't care this time.

What he didn't expect was the funeral-like procession to file into the room. He didn't expect to see white and blank faces staring uncomprehendingly back at him. Snape now stood quickly, his sneer gone but his face darker than what Sirius had even seen. For a moment, Sirius couldn't breathe, then:

"Wh-where's Harry? Didn't…didn't he come?" Sirius couldn't help the fear weakening his voice.

Snape turned to look at him, his face a dark mask and his fists clenched. Behind him, he could hear Molly breathing in hitches.

Remus stepped forward and, like a little child in terror, slowly held something out for Sirius to take, which he did in dread apprehension. It was a pillow, flat and nearly worthless in what it was meant to be used for.

It was a pillow drenched in dried blood, stiff and the color of rust.

"Remus?" Sirius asked in desperation. "Wha-what's this?"

But he knew what it was. He knew what it meant. He could see the violence, the desperation and the pain and the fear in the small pillow. As he sank to the floor, he barely heard Moody speak in his gruff tones.

"We didn't find a body."

Snape dropped back into his chair, his body strangely deflated. Behind Sirius, Molly began to wail.

Albus didn't move and the only sound was the keening of a broken mother and the weeping of a man whose only light in his darkness went out.

***_AU world_

Sirius Black struggled to catch his breath as he ran, with the chilled wind whipping his hair, and the adrenaline pumping violently through his veins. Purple twilight was quickly giving way to darkness but the sky remained cloudy, allowing not a star to glimmer or the moon to cast a glow. The fog was thick and heavy. It filled every street, every alley, every kook and cranny until the air was so dense, the animagus could barely see. Sweat poured down his back and face but Sirius couldn't help but grin somewhat manically as he pressed his back to a stone wall, pausing before peering around the corner. His tee-shirt clung to him in a mixture of blood, sweat, and the night's beady moisture. He had abandoned his red Auror robe twenty minutes ago for the favor of greater mobility. Despite the circumstances, they were winning easily, with only a few minor injuries on the Order's side. Sirius swiped at a thin trickle of blood slithering down his cheek, but other than that he remained relatively uninjured.

"How many, Padfoot?" he heard Harry whisper, suddenly next to him, causing the man to start.

"Damn, Harry! I almost hexed you!" Sirius seethed, willing his heart to calm at the sight of the dark emeralds staring amusedly at him.

His godson leaned casually against the wall next to him, sweat beading his tanned face. A slug of blood oozed between his eyes, following the path of his tear ducts and clinging to his jaw line.

"You okay?" Sirius gestured towards the nasty cut. Harry swiped at the blood with a smirk and a shrug.

"Doesn't hurt. Don't even know how I got it." The boy's eyes flashed and he twirled his wand in his finger tips. "Exhilarating, isn't it?" his already dark eyes seemed to deepen in color and he quirked an eyebrow.

Sirius couldn't help but shudder. "You always creep me out when you look like that, pup."

Harry's smirk grew more prominent. "I know." The young man pushed himself off the wall and charged around the corner. The dark fog lit up with the brilliant blue of a hex.

Sirius was quick to join him, bellowing out a stunning curse to the first Death Eater that came into sight. The man fell in a crumpled heap and Sirius leapt over the fallen body, not breaking stride. He fought alongside Harry, heart pumping and muscles straining in exertion.

But Harry seemed all at ease. The nineteen-year-old boy was in his element, dodging curses, shooting spells wordlessly, and holding up a vibrantly red shield effortlessly.

Sirius suddenly grinned as he thought back to their conversation that was only a few minutes ago.

"Twelve! To answer your question from earlier!" Sirius crowed in the high of the fight, wielding his wan at the level of his eyes, sending another stunning curse towards a Death Eater attempting to _crucio _him. "Make that thirteen!" he corrected with a holler as the man in black robes hit the ground motionless, his wand skittering along the cobblestone. Sirius snapped it with the heel of his boot.

He could see his godson's smirk from here. That boy had been hanging around Snape too often. "Count me at twenty!"

Sirius nearly broke stride. "That's because I let you have all the easy ones!" Sirius retorted as Harry's wand spewed a jet of vomit-yellow light. The man on the receiving end of that spell howled in agony and feel to the ground, writhing and clawing at his face with nasty boils had erupted.

Harry rolled his eyes, kicking the man in his side and binding him. "Whatever strokes your ego, Sirius."

"You two are ridiculous!" Tonks yelled at them as she spun past, taking down two death eaters in her wake. Her hair was a vibrant multitude of colors, similar to a rainbow. The sight was shocking at first glance and Sirius was sure that his cousin did that just to throw Voldemort's followers for a loop.

The young woman appeared unharmed, having caught up with them in an array of dramatic wand sparks. That girl always knew how to make an entrance.

Sirius snickered rather breathlessly as he began to run, sprinting down the street for Harry and Tonks were already way ahead of him. The night around him lit up like fireworks but Sirius didn't once flinch from the blinding colors and loud booms. He continued to battle, concentrating hard to pick out friend from foe in the heavy mist.

Out of nowhere, something slammed into his back and he found himself pitching forward with a yelp, elbows scraping cobblestone rather painfully. A jet of purple light hit an area near his face, blackening the stone, and he twisted quickly onto his back, hexing the Death Eater standing over him into oblivion. The hooded man was blasted backwards and he slammed into the side of a stone building before slumping lifelessly to the cold ground.

Sirius rolled quickly back onto his elbows, desperate to not be left behind when something in his peripheral vision made him freeze.

A small, blood stained hand was just barely visible behind a stack of toppled crates and spilled seed. Sirius scrambled to his feet, sprinting the few feet between him and the hand, desperately hoping he would find a body attached to the child-like appendage.

It was a boy facing away from him, his thin body wracked with tremors. A shock of jet black hair made Sirius' heart leap in terror for his throat.

"Holy shit, Harry!" he fell to his knees, panic making his hands shake and he roughly turned the boy over, shocked to find a mere child's face looking back at him. "You're…you're not Harry…"

But it was…but it wasn't…

Wide-eyed, Sirius blinked rapidly, unable to process this information. He quickly surveyed his surroundings, noting the trail of blood and figuring the boy had dragged himself a good ways before being unable to continue.

Sirius looked back down at the boy who was only half-conscious with just a slit of emerald showing beneath the half-closed eyelids. Dried blood stained the boy's chin and neck and clothes. His leg was twisted in a sickening way at the knee and his face supported two black eyes and a swollen nose.

Had the Death Eaters done this? Was it a twisted trick to play with his mind? _Idiot!_ His brain screamed at him. _Who cares what the damned kid looks like! He's injured for Christ's sake!_

Sirius stood, heart pounding, unsure of what to do. The boy couldn't have been more than twelve or thirteen but he held a disturbingly uncanny resemblance to Harry Potter. The pit of his stomach roiled in turmoil.

Who was this boy?

For a few moments, Sirius couldn't do anything. Fear and uneasiness pinned him to the ground, preventing him from moving but not allowing him to kneel down in assistance to the wounded child. He didn't even touch the boy for fear it was a morbid trick. Sirius took a step back, inwardly struggling. It was against his morals to leave an injured child to the mercies of Death Eaters but the resemblance to Harry and James was extremely disconcerting.

Suddenly, the boy stirred. He blinked slowly before grimacing.

"Please…" the pitiful whimper made Sirius freeze once more, stunned to see a pair of startling green eyes staring up at him pleadingly, glassy with pain. "_Help…me…_"

Sirius couldn't ignore such a wretched plea. He watched the boy convulse once in what looked to be agony and the two emeralds rolled back until only the rims were visible. He made up his mind then and there.

"Okay, kid," he muttered, pocketing his wand and scooping the boy up in his arms. He was answered with a horrible cry of pain as the twisted leg was jolted. Sirius' face contorted with worry. "Hang on, kid, you're gonna be fine."

Running as fast as he could with the skinny child in his arms, he slipped down the streets as silent as he could. he didn't get far, thought, when a blasting hex grazed his cheek, causing him to stumble than fall, the boy fell from his arms, rolling away. The following shriek of pain grated Sirius' already raw nerves.

The Auror leapt to his feet, yanking out his wand. A cutting hex caught his shoulder and hissed with pain while quickly retaliating. With the Death Eater out, Sirius turned his attention back to the child who was now on his elbows, looking around haphazardly. Fear was quite evident on his bloody face. He looked as though he was trying to escape but wasn't getting very far with it. He caught sight of Sirius and whimpered. It was then that Sirius noticed that the kid was clutching a pair of broken glasses, the lenses cutting into his palm.

"You want me to fix those?" Sirius asked. The boy grunted, seemingly not able to form words. With the noise came a cord of blood that fell from the boy's mouth. He coughed thickly and more blood followed. Sirius felt a twinge of panic. He definitely knew that wasn't good but he didn't want to freak the boy out.

Sirius quickly fixed the shattered glasses and wiped away the blood and grime. When he pushed them onto the boy's face, he was again hit by the disturbing resemblance of his godson and best friend. _Just leave it, Sirius. Think about that later._

"You're okay kid," Sirius said in a pathetic attempt to soothe the child, dropping down, trying to access the injuries. The boy's head dropped back down to the cobblestone street, eyelids drooping. Sirius, though he had little medical training, knew that it wasn't a good idea for the kid to go unconscious. He tapped the boy's cheek hurriedly to get his attention. "No you don't."

The boy's eyes fluttered quickly before settling emeralds on Sirius' worried face. Sirius pulled off his shirt with a quick tug, wet it with an _augumenti _spell, and began to wipe away some of the blood, hoping to find the faucet of it all.

"Hey kid, can you tell me your name?" Sirius asked, hoping to keep the boy awake with conversation.

"Dunno…" was the only thing he received. The boy's head lolled to one shoulder, eyes distant with pain.

"You with me?" Sirius asked as he prodded the swollen nose gently, finding that it was only bruised and not broken.

"Not really," came the breathless reply, quickly followed but a bubble of blood at the corner of his lips.

Sirius forced himself to remain calm. "That's good, kid. You'll feel less pain in this state."

He could literally feel the boy's disagreement.

"Is there any place you're hurting? Like any pain worse than everything else."

The boy nodded drunkenly, his eyes rolling back once, twice, before focusing once more. "Leg. Side." Another bubble of blood.

Sirius eyed the twisted joint, too afraid to touch it lest it caused even more damage. "There's not much I can do for you knee…it's pretty bad off. You said you side?"

No answer. Only heavy, strangled breathing. Sirius looked up and saw that he was beginning to lose the boy again to the realm of pain.

"Hang on, kid," Sirius swallowed hard, feeling almost useless as he tugged the side of the boy's shirt where it was almost black with blood and he saw the gaping ugly gash cutting deeply into the boy's side, right at the bottom of his rib cage. In places, Sirius could even see the white of bone. It was still seeping blood. "Oh god…oh shit…" Sirius couldn't hold himself back any longer. He pressed his fingers into the side of the boy's neck and felt a thready, weak pulse. "I gotta get you out of here."

As soon as he had said this, a hideous flash of green. He instinctively threw his body over the bleeding boy. The curse flew over his head, ruffling his hair, and it struck a rubbish bin, causing it to explode into bits of plastic. One stray piece struck Sirius above the eye and his neck snapped back. Darkness rushed to greet him.

***

It was so hard to breathe. It hurt too much to breathe.

Harry tried to draw in a deep breath, to compensate his screaming lungs, only to be met with a rush of blinding pain. Liquid flooded his throat and he gurgled in an attempt to breathe. There was no way he was going to survive this. The pain was too much and he just couldn't breathe. And even _he _knew that a human needed oxygen to breathe. But how was he supposed to if there wasn't any at all?

The back of his eyelids briefly glowed green and moment later he heard a grunt of pain followed by the sound of a body hitting the ground. Despite unconsciousness seeping into his brain, Harry's eyes flew open in horror.

"Siri…us?" he whimpered, gagging as a coppery taste filled his mouth.

There was an awful laugh and he could hear approaching footsteps.

_Do something!_ He brain screamed at him. _I can't!_ Harry inwardly screamed back, a sob breaking from his throat.

The laughter came closer. "My, my, my…what have we got here?"

_Malfoy! _ Harry flinched, struggling to get his limbs to obey so that he could reach for his wand. Sirius needed him!

Other voices joined Lucius Malfoy. The silver-haired man continued in a silky voice: "Black? So nice to meet you again. So sorry that you're unconscious for it though. And a child? What have you done to yourself, such a pitiful little creature."

A bout of adrenaline allowed Harry to life his head, shaking as it was.

"Got a defiant streak in you, don't you boy?" Lucius snickered. "Practically lying on death's door yet still has the gall to glare at me. You were make a fine addition to the Dark Lord's army."

Harry was momentarily shocked. What was this? Lucius was trying to recruit him? He thought Voldemort wanted him dead! A thick string of blood hung from his mouth but Harry was able to spat back, "Never! I'd-I'd never….j-join forces w-w-w-with a t-twisted freak like V-Voldemort." He could almost hear the cringe.

"I see."

There was a silence that was only penetrated by the sounds of feet shuffling.

A wand point was suddenly shoved against his forehead. "You know, I could have mercy and finish you off, seeing as you're already speeding towards death. But for such a rude remark, I'm going to let you suffer till the last breath you draw into your pitiful existence"

Silence again.

"Instead, I'll kill Black instead, since I've so wanted to for such a long time."

The toe of his boot nudged Sirius' face, pushing it so that his godfather's unconciouss face was turned towards him.

Something inside Harry exploded. How dare they treat Sirius like that! The sight mirrored Harry's memory of the graveyard and sent his teeth chattering from the fresh rush of adrenaline and the animalistic instinct to survive. Blood boiled in his veins and Harry's world narrowed down to Malfoy and only Malfoy. His fingers caught the edge of his holly wand and he rolled to sit up, wand pulsing. An explosion of white burst from his wand, blinding him, throwing him back to the cobblestone. The ground beneath him trembled. A roaring sound filled Harry's ears to the point that he had to cover them with the palms of his hands. His own screams joined the noise and weakness invading him.

Slowly the sound receded and Harry found himself lying on his back, blood gushing from his nostrils. Waves of black and white washed across his vision as unconsciousness pulled him under.

The last thing he saw was a face, looking strangely like his own, hovering over him. "Hell…" someone said in what could've been disbelief. "Hang on, kid. After that, I'm not going to let you die."

But it was too late, Harry thought.

And there was nothing.

_So let the waters rise_

_If you want them to..._

_They will follow you_

_They will follow you.  
_

* * *

I hope you liked the beginning!!!!!! I'm open to suggestions, comments, ideas, and fair criticism. If you don't like it, tell me why. If you just say that you hate it, than i really won't care. I'm going to borrow this wonderful, amazing idea from the brilliant writer EllaEleniel who is writing Alea Icacta Est which is a wonderful fic about Harry and Severus both of whom she writes very well.

**I'm going to offer ten points to the best guesses as to what the letter said that Harry read right before he transported. Please state your house affiliation and who ever has the most points at the end of the story will be rewarded!**

Until next time and Happy Literacy!!


	2. Two Harrys

**Umm…well, hi there! Yes, I know, it's been a million years since my last update. Military life is crazy but I am getting out in a couple months and things have slowed down A LOT. **

**I would like to thank my beta BRAIN FLUFF—if it wasn't for this wonderful person, I would not have even started writing this story again. Can I say awesome? Anyways…I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

James Potter awoke very suddenly in a pool of his own drool. He sat up stiffly, rubbing at the painful places where his glasses had dug into his face. "Wha…" he groaned, his head pounding. He drew in a ragged breath and brought his arm up to his mouth before undergoing a series of wretched coughing.

It quickly became apparent that he had fallen asleep amidst paper work at the kitchen table and judging by the sky outside the window; twilight had just fallen over the horizon in a hue of deep purple and navy blue. Rosehale Cottage was silent and still except for the lulling sounds of the ocean outside. It took several moments for James to regain his bearings and when he did, he began to achingly gather up the loose papers and pile them off to the side. It took a couple minutes before he noticed a written note ripped from spare parchment. He picked it up and held it close to him face in the dim light.

_James,_

_You were just too cute to wake up! Willow and I went to Diagon Alley for groceries and should be back in a couple hours. Knowing your daughter, we'll probably end up in the Quidditch store and Merlin knows how long she'll want to stare at the 'latest and greatest' model broom. Don't forget to take your potions! I left them on the counter by the sink. Take the blue one first, wait ten minutes, then take the other two. They'll help your congestion and fever and should ease your coughing. Sirius fire-called right before I left saying that he and Harry had to go off for a mission and would be late returning home tonight. See you in a bit!_

_ Love,_

_ Lily_

_ P.S. Don't forget to take your potions! I'll know if you poured them down the sink!_

James smiled faintly and folded up the note before sticking it in his pocket.

He had taken sick leave for the week, having woken up yesterday morning coughing and sneezing and feverish. Of course, being the manly man that he was, he spent the day trudging room to room, bemoaning the agony he was in to anyone who would listen. It wasn't until his wife had threatened painful death that he collapsed on the couch and allowed her to take care of him.

When he had got up this morning, his face felt as tight as it did the day before and his head throbbed each time he stood. After a shouting match where he argued that he had a right to go to work, Lily finally convinced him to stay home for the week. In the end, he had compromised by agreeing to his wife orders and using his time off to catch up on paper work.

James Potter was an Emergency First Responder Auror for the Ministry of Magic. His job was to be out on the field with the others and treat and access injuries. After stabilizing a patient, he would use a portkey to transport the victim to St. Mungo's. He loved his job and loved the fact that he wasn't stuck in a hospital ward all day. He enjoyed the adrenaline rushes and the battles. He liked the danger and fighting against the dark side of magic.

Of course, Lily hated the fact that he worked in the field. And she hated him for 'dragging' their oldest child Harry into the midst of it all. No matter what he and Harry said, they couldn't convince her that her child had come willingly. The day of Harry's graduation from Hogwarts, he had announced that he'd been accepted into the auror's apprentice program and that due to his Defense Against the Dark Arts grades, he had been allowed to cut his training time in half rather than attend a full four years.

James still remembered his wife turning in her seat to give him a glare worthy of a basilisk.

James flicked on the kitchen light and had to squint as he waited for his eyes to adjust. Looking at the clock on the wall, he read that it was half past eight. Lily and Willow would be home soon. He should probably start some sort of dinner before they returned. Chicken? Steak? Waffles?

James hated to cook.

Suddenly, he felt an annoying tickle in his nose. He sniffed in attempt to get rid of the sensation. Instead, his upper body vaulted forward in a quick succession of forceful sneezes that made his eyes water and burn.

"Holy Berlin," James cursed when he was done, his voice thick. He wiped his nose with the back of his hand and was appalled to see his skin slicked red when he drew back his arm. "_Shid! Shid!_" James leaned forward and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to breathe normally. Bright red blood spotted the tiled floor like tiny rose petals. "Teaby!" he called in a hoarse voice, fumbling around to find some sort of tissue or towel. "Goddabbit!"

He spun in a slow circle and their house elf came into his line of vision. She was holding up a small hand towel for him. "Is Master James Sir all right?" she asked in her perpetually squeaky voice.

"No," James grumbled, snatching the up the towel. He pressed it to his nose in an attempt to staunch the blood flow. "I'b dying!"

"Yes, Master James Sir!" answered Teaby in earnest. "Would Master James Sir be wanting Teaby to call for Mistress Lily?"

"No, no…_Bloo'y 'ell!_"

"What the hell happened to you?" said a sudden voice from the doorway.

James spun around and spotted Harry staring at him with surprise. "Bloo'y nose," James said with a gesture. He did a double take and stared at Harry for moment in horror. "Look ab you!" he exclaimed. His eighteen-year-old son was covered in ashes and dirt. A slug of blood ran from the middle of his forehead and a large burn glistened on his right forearm.

Harry looked down at himself then back up at James with a confused shrug. "What did you think we were doing when Sirius said we were going on a mission?" he countered with a raised eyebrow. "A mission for sweets and puppies?"

James grunted and turned away from Harry to check if his bloody nose had stopped.

"You're just sour you missed out on all the fun," Harry teased.

"How'd id go?" asked James as he pushed the towel against his nose again. "And leb me have a look ad dat wound on your face…"

Harry's face quickly turned somber as though he suddenly remembered something. "No time. Sirius is on his way with a kid we found during the fight. He's hurt bad."

James was suddenly alert and he straightened. "Whab? Why? Couldn' you have daken him to St. Bungo's?"

Harry shook his head and turned away at the sound of someone apparating outside. "You'll see," answered his son cryptically.

James shook his head in annoyance, thinking that Harry had spent too much time with Sirius lately and tossed the towel aside. He _accio_-ed his medical supply bag and rummaged through it to make sure everything he needed was there. He found the blue potion for congestion and downed it in one gulp with a grimace. He instantly felt relief.

"James, hurry!" called Sirius' voice from down the long hall.

James took a quick swipe at his nose with his arm before taking up his bag and rushing down the hall, ignoring the dizzy feeling he got from moving too quickly.

When James entered the spare bedroom and saw the bloody mess on the bed, he had thought that he was too late. The boy was maybe thirteen or fourteen and he was splattered from head to toe with blood and dirt. Beneath the gore, his face was a grayish white and his lips were tinged blue. But when he moved forward and pressed two fingers to the boy's neck, he was shocked to find a thready pulse.

"What the hell happened?" he demanded, dumping the full contents of his bag next to the seemingly lifeless boy. He picked out three syringes and three mini bottles of potion. Flicking the first syringe to make sure the bubbles dispersed, he then peeled away the boy's blood-soaked shirt, turned him on his side and injected the needle into his hip. After filling the next two syringes, he injected those into the boy's upper thighs. The kid twitched but otherwise gave no response.

"What were those?" Harry asked behind him. He appeared next to James, holding a towel to his forehead. He looked down at the kid with a perplexed face.

"Blood replenishing, pain reliever, and adrenaline," answered James sharply . "Now what happened?"

"I just found him like that," answered Sirius with wide eyes. A river of blood oozed from his temple and splotched the shoulder of his tee shirt. His face was white and bruised. "I dunno if he's a Death Eater, or some muggle caught in the cross fire or what but…"

"There's no way he's a muggle," interrupted Harry as he tossed the towel aside. The blood had dried on his face. "That kid saved Sirius' life!"

James only half-heard that last statement. He had completely removed the kid's shirt and was doing his best to siphon away the majority of blood. In a lot of cases that James had dealt with, the blood always made the wounds look more serious than they actually were. But in this instance, the more blood that he wiped away, the more his stomach sank. He slowly peeled back the make-shift bandage that Sirius had made on the boy's side and a gush of dark blood gushed forth.

"Shit!" James grabbed a package of gauze and ripped it open. He pressed it firmly against the gaping wound before gesturing quickly with his free hand at Sirius, "Open me some more gauze—quickly!"

Sirius complied with fumbling hands. James grabbed the gauze with his free hand and piled it on. "Harry, find some more blood replenishing potion! Now!" James didn't look up as he took more gauze offered by Sirius. The blood, hot and sticky, oozed up between his own fingers and pooled on the white sheets beneath the boy. "He's losing blood fast—he won't be alive much longer if he continues like this."

With one hand on the roll of gauze, he grabbed his wand with his free hand. He muttered a couple of spells and the bleeding slowed somewhat. He whispered the spell again. Once he was sure the wound wouldn't gush again, he pulled back the bandages and examined the wound closely—it was deep and jagged—white bone showed through. "He probably has some internal injuries. The wound goes really deep."

"Bloody Merlin, is that his rib?" Harry asked with a hint of horror, holding out a large bottle of deep red potion for his father to take.

"Just set it down," directed James as he pointed his wand at the wound again. "_Vulnera Sanentur_." He watched as the edges of the wound attempted to knit together. Except for the very ends, it didn't fully close. He was going to have to let it heal partially on its own and leave it packed with gauze. He knew too much magic could overload the boy's already fragile body and cause heart failure. "_Tergeo." _ More of the drying blood cleared away. James let out a deep breath. "Merlin, this kid has been through the grinder…" he muttered, staring at the bruises. "You said you just found him like this?"

"Yeah—I did what I could," answered Sirius. "I fixed his broken nose and some minor cuts but that's as far as my expertise goes. Do you think he'll make it?" asked Sirius from the corner of the room, his face lined in worry.

"I don't know yet," answered James. "And I still don't know why you didn't take him to St. Mungo's. They're better equipped there than I am. There's only such much I can do. If this boy dies..." James' voice trailed off, the implications clear in his unspoken words.

"Have you looked at his face, dad? "Harry gestured towards the boy's head. "I mean, _really_ looked at his face?"

James gave his son a look of barely tolerance before obliging him. He cleared the blood from the boy's face and felt his breath leave him. "_Fuck_."

He felt as though the world has faded away and all he could do was stare at his son's doppelganger. A younger, thinner version of him, yes but those were the only differences James could see. He had to grip the side of the mattress for support as his mind tried to make sense of what he was seeing. "Wha—? How?"

"I don't know, Prongs. I found him in an alley. He doesn't have the Mark and I've _never _seen him before and I've never heard Snape mention him. Maybe it's just some freaky look alike." Sirius said with wild gestures.

"Maybe…" said James distantly before drawing in a deep breath. He turned back to the boy's injuries and continued to work with steady hands even though on the inside he was shaking.

"I couldn't just leave him there; he's just a kid." Sirius continued, wringing his wrists, looking sufficiently frazzled. "He's just a kid who looks just like my godson…oh god…"

"Calm down, Sirius," Harry spoke in a collected voice, his green eyes stern. "You did the right thing. Besides, that kid saved your life. No Death Eater would do that. You should've seen it, dad. Malfoy was a second away from killing Sirius and then this kid let out this-this pure, unaltered magical energy. Knocked those fuckers right out!"

"_Harry James Potter_!" Lily gasped from the bedroom door, making all three men jump and turn. "When have I ever allowed that sort of language in this house?!"

Harry had the decency to look sheepish, running a hand through his hair. "Sorry, mum. Didn't mean anything by it."

"James," Lily continued in a horrified voice, ignoring Harry and staring at the mutilated boy laying on the bed. "What's going on? Who's that?"

James snapped out of his daze turned away from his wife to look at the look-a-like. "I don't know; Harry and Sirius found him during a fight."

Sirius quickly recounted the story to the woman, who interjected with gasps and soft cries. When he was finished, Lily moved quickly to the other side of the bed and took the boy's hand, her heart-shaped face so white, her freckles stood out more than usual.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" she asked James in worry.

"Yeah, give a 7mm dose of blood replenishing potion and then a 3mm dose of that green potion. It'll start fighting any infection he might incur."

Lily worked quickly and efficiently. Though she wasn't a healer, Lily had learned enough from James from the scrapes and broken bones that Sirius, Harry, and James had incurred to practically be one.

"Mum!" called a voice from down the hall. There was a sound of thumping feet. "Where is everybody?"

"Willow, go upstairs to your room," Lily ordered in a strained voice, looking up briefly from where she was injecting a pink potion to boy's upper arm.

"What?" the voice came closer and then James' fourteen-year-old daughter stood in the doorway, taking in the scene with wide eyes. She was tall like her father and her hair, nearly a cherry red, reached her mid back. She had her father's eyes, large and the color of hazel. She adjusted her glasses over her freckled nose and stepped farther into the room. "What's going on?"

"Willow!" Lily scolded. "I told you to go to your room! I don't want you to see this!"

"Mum, I'm not a kid!" Willow whined, moving closer still, her eyes alight with curiosity. "Tell her, Uncle Sirius! I want to help!"

"No," James interjected firmly before Sirius could even open his mouth, turning briefly to look at his daughter. "Why don't you fire-call Remus and ask him if you can spend the night at his place."

"What?!" Willow screeched. "Why? No!"

"Willow!" James shouted in rare form. "Do as you're told!"

His daughter, knowing better to argue any further, spun on her heel and stomped away, muttering under her breath.

James turned back to the boy, ignoring his daughter. He banished the kid's flannel pajama pants and used both his hands to examine the swollen knee. "Bloody hell, looks like he dislocated the joint and shattered the knee cap; Lily could you measure me out 30mm of skelegrow? It's going to take a while for this to heal—I've never seen a joint this bad. He's going to be hurting for quite some time. He might need some muggle crutches."

"Do you think we should contact Dumbledore?" asked Harry, running a hand through his untidy mop of hair. He was still staring at the boy's face. "Merlin, it's like a blast from the past. Was I that skinny?"

"No, your mother kept you well fed. And we shouldn't tell Dumbledore yet," answered James, using his wand to clean off dried mud from the boy's legs. "Dumbledore's busy enough the Order as it is and we don't know anything for certain about this boy, yet. Lets just wait until the boy is stable and we're able to talk to us." Lily handed him a large syringe filled with a yellowish liquid. James took it with a muttered 'thanks' and carefully inserted it into the child's swollen knee and pushed the plunger.

Suddenly the boy expelled a great gasp and jerked violently. "Oy!" James shouted, using his free hand to secure the kid's injured leg. "Grab him—somebody!" Sirius jumped forward and pinned the boy by his torso.

"James, he's awake!" his friend said loudly. James inhaled a sharp breath and looked up.

Eyes as brilliant as emeralds were rolling in their sockets in blatant terror. They locked with James' eyes briefly. "No!" the boy gasped in a raspy, his chest heaving with ragged breaths. "Stop!" the boy began to fight, clawing at Sirius' arms with his hand. The gash in his side began to bleed profusely again.

"Lily! A sedative!" James said hurriedly as he withdrew the needle and used both arms to hold his legs down.

For such a skinny thing, the boy sure was strong. He flailed and kicked out as best he could, aggravating his injuries in the process.

"James," Lily cried, holding out a different syringe. James leaned on the boy's legs and took the needle.

"Lily, hold his legs as best you can and Harry, grab his arm and hold it as still as possible!"

Harry quickly complied and held the boy's arm with his hands.

"Steady, steady…" James injected the potion quickly into his vein. The potion went into effect nearly instantaneously. The boy went limp.

Sirius and Harry let go and backed away from the bed. James checked his patient's pulse again. The kid looked at him with sluggish, brilliantly green eyes. "Hey, kiddo," said James soothingly. "I just need you to relax; you're in good hands."

The boy moved his lips as though to speak but the only thing that came out with a bubble of blood that burst then slid down the boy's chin and neck. James took a damp, warm cloth and wiped it away. "Don't try to talk; everything is going to be fine. Just close your eyes and sleep. Just let the potion do its job and sleep."

The boy was out before James even finished talking.

* * *

_***Remus _

Remus Lupin snoozed in his overstuffed armchair, the book he had been reading lay open, its pages rumpled and bent from overuse. The dying embers in the fireplace cast a warm glow on the otherwise dark sitting room and made little shadows dance on the walls. An overlarge dog slept at the foot of the sleeping man, grunting and twitching as it dreamed.

The fireplace suddenly blazed green with a _whoosh! _of emerald flames.

Remus Lupin awoke with a start, the book he had been holding loosely in his lap slipped and landed with a dull thump on the Saint Bernard's head. Winston lumbered to his feet in protest with a shake of his overly large head. He let out a rumbling bark. Straightening fast, Remus reached for his wand on the side table but was stopped by a familiar voice.

"It's just me, Uncle Remus," Willow picked herself up from the hearth of the fireplace, her freckled face twisted into a scowl. Winston padded over to the young girl, head butting her in her midriff. She gave the dog a pat on his head. "My dad sent me over here. He wants to know if I can spend the night."

"Of course, Willow," Remus answered with a bleary smile, stretching his arms above his head before slowly getting to his feet. He gestured Willow over for a hug and she obliged, wrapping her arms around her godfather's middle. "It's been a while, eh?" he said, planting a kiss in her hair. "So, what's going on over there?"

"Something too 'mature' for me to handle," grumbled the teenage girl, breaking free from the hug and picking Remus' book up off the floor. "Dad had some sort of critical patient and I guess mum thought the blood and gore was too much for a 'child' to handle." She tossed the book on the couch and plopped down next to it. "I am not a child!" she declared in outrage. "I don't mind blood and stuff!"

"Well, you know your mother," Remus said in a placating voice, summoning two bottles of butterbeer. He handed one over and plopped back down again. Winston returned to his spot at Remus' feet, his tail thumping the hardwood floor. "She just doesn't want you to grow up too fast and she wants to protect you."

Willow popped the cap of her offered butterbeer and took a drink. "But it's just blood! Mum _knows_ that I want to be an emergency responder like dad! How am I ever going to learn if she won't let me near it?"

Remus chuckled at the look on her goddaughter's face. "You're only fourteen, Willow. You still have plenty of time to learn. It's not that bad being a kid, eh? Enjoy it while you can. You know, my years at Hogwarts were some of the best of my life."

"I know, I know…I've heard the stories…" Willow swept up her long hair and piled it on top her head for several moments before letting it fall down again in disarray. Whenever she did this, it always made Remus think of Lily when she was younger. Smiling to himself at the touch of nostalgia, he took a sip of his beverage. Willow leaned forward and rested her chin on her hand. "Do you think I'm weird for being fascinated with blood?"

Remus chuckled, "Just a little bit."

Willow laughed at his answer and playfully stuck out her tongue before taking another drink of her butterbeer.

To say that Remus had been shocked when James and Lily had come to him about being Willow's godfather was an understatement. At first he had refused, using his condition to prove that he would be a terrible guardian for any child. But when Lily had placed the tiny baby in Remus' arms and he looked into those large hazel eyes and gently touched the curls of cherry red hair, he had forgotten all those silly reasons and the only thing that passed his lips was the word 'yes'.

Remus had never felt more a part of something than he had that day, in that moment when he held that tiny little girl in his arms. And that feeling never faded. He didn't know why James and Lily had entrusted such a precious and priceless thing to him but he was sure glad they did.

"Hey, Uncle Remus, fancy a game of chess?" Willow interrupted his musings, a sweet smile showing dimples in her cheeks.

"Sounds great," answered Remus, drawing in a deep breath to bring himself back to the present. "Why don't you get the board and I'll get us some cocoa and biscuits?"

Willow stood and headed towards the storage room while Remus went for the kitchen. Fifteen minutes later they were sitting in front of the fireplace, munching biscuits and sipping cocoa.

"Did you know that Harry's friend, Ron, has _never_ lost a chess game?" said Willow as she moved a pawn across the board.

"Is that so?" answered Remus, studying his next move. "Actually, I think I've heard that before."

"It could just be that he usually only plays with Harry, and everyone knows that Harry is complete pants at chess. Even _I _beat him sometimes."

"Well, you know that your father is terrible at chess as well," chuckled Remus, moving one of his knights to knock out Willow's pawn. "It might be genetic."

"Well, I didn't get that gene." Willow squinted her eyes at the board and crinkled her nose. Finally, she moved her castle.

"Maybe it just hasn't kicked in yet, eh?" Remus pointed out teasingly.

"No way, that doesn't make sense, Remus."

"Perhaps." Remus gave his goddaughter a half smile before looking down and instructing his queen to move three squares and waited, watching the board for Willow's next move.

When she didn't move for several moments, he looked up and saw that she was staring straight a hand, a vacant, faraway look in her hazel eyes and her lips paper white. Her body was making little rocking movements and her face was bloodless.

"Willow?" he asked gently. When there was no reply, he stood and walked around the chess table and sat down next to his goddaughter. He wrapped his arm about her shoulders and pulled her close. Her body remained rigid against him and she made no indication that she knew he was there.

This was a common thing with Willow. The first time it had happened, James and Lily panicked and took her to St. Mungo's, thinking she was having some sort of fit. Turned out, Willow was having a vision of James falling down the stairs and breaking his arm the next day.

James had claimed that there was no seer blood in his family but when he tripped over the family cat and, indeed, broke his arm than they had no choice but to accept that Willow did have seer blood in her. They weren't much like predictions as they were just 'pictures' that she saw in head of happenings going on. It ranged from what her mother was making for dinner that night to Harry being taken by Death Eaters.

This one only lasted a couple minutes and when Willow came to, Remus had a pain relief potion ready for her. Blinking fast to gather her bearings, she took the potion from him and gulped it fast before falling back against the cushions of the couch, a look of deep thought on her face.

"Anything interesting?" Remus asked casually.

"It was weird," Willow said softly, scratching her nose briefly. "There were two Harrys."

Remus raised his eyebrows, "Two Harrys?" he asked in surprise. "A prank? Or polyjuice?"

"No…" she said distantly, staring at Winston who was sleeping in his dog bed by the fire. "One of the Harrys was ours but the other was different…younger, I guess. It was weird."

Remus leaned back against the couch as well and thought about what she had just said, but was unable to think up an explanation. "Weird," He agreed. "Very weird."

Willow curled up against his side and sighed. "I'm sleepy now. I'm always sleepy after a vision."

"You want to go to bed, then?"

"No. I'm fine here. I'm just sleepy." She answered and moments later she was fast asleep. Remus laid his head back and closed his eyes, feeling content and peaceful. There was no thought of two Harrys in his mind as he, too, fell asleep.

* * *

****_Lily_

The boy laid motionless, his face as pale as the linen sheets. Lily gently lifted the small, boney hand and caressed the soft, child-like skin. The fingers remained limp in her palm and the arm flaccid.

"His parents must be worried sick," she murmured.

James lifted his head and studied his wife from his position on the other side of the bed. He looked tired and drained. "I doubt it," he answered. His fists clenched tightly so that the knuckles were splotched red and white.

Lily waited for him to explain what he meant.

James sighed and ran a hand through his messy, black hair. "These injuries, Lily, they weren't made by magic. I've seen many types of injuries—doing my rotation in the pediatric ward, I saw many abuse cases…"

A cold, sick feeling settled in the pit of Lily's stomach. "Oh, James…" she swallowed hard, appalled. "You don't think his own parents dumped him in an alley for dead?"

"I won't know for sure until he wakes up—and that's if he speaks." James sighed and dropped his chin to his chest in a fit of congestive coughs.

Lily brought the hand she held to her cheek. The skin was warm with fever and a wave of protectiveness washed over her with overwhelming urge. "Let's keep him," she blurted without further thought.

James stilled and for several moments they sat in awkward silence with only the sound of the boy's breathing.

"Lily," James began hesitantly. "He's not a stray animal that we can randomly pick up off the streets. He still has a family out there."

"But you said—"

James waved an interrupting hand at her. "What I said was entirely theory. I can't know for sure." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "We're not entirely sure if the boy is safe—he looks exactly like a Potter—he looks exactly like our son. There are no other Potters left besides our family. This boy could be Death Eater! I could've just saved a Death Eater!"

Lily closed her eyes, attempting to control her raging emotions. "He's just a child. I have this strange feeling that we should protect him—call it a woman's intuition."

Both adults grew quiet when the unconscious boy let out a shuddering breath before going motionless again.

* * *

***_Harry_

Harry was vaguely aware of the voices floating over him and the warm hand that held his. But the pain was sharp and clear and the pounding of his heart echoed with painful intensity in his head. Each breath he took seared in his chest and he struggled and fought to take another. When he opened his eyes, his world was just a swirl of colors and shapes and his stomach gave a nasty lurch of protest. With a weak moan, he closed his eyes and struggled to fall back into a fitful sleep where the pain would be diluted and the darkness was soothing and silent.

More voices. A little louder this time.

Harry slowly came back to semi-awareness where the black liquid he had been floating in faded to gray-darkness where the warmth of a blanket draped over his lap and chest and the soft murmurs of voices brought a sort of calm over him. Harry didn't' want to leave this place where time and pain and fear didn't existence.

But the voices became more insistent, prodding him to leave his mental sanctuary.

"Hey kiddo, I'll let you go back to sleep in just a moment," said a voice above him.

Harry tried to speak but couldn't only take in a painful breath. Why did it hurt so much to breathe?

"It's okay, you're okay. Could you tell me your name?" asked the voice as a gentle hand touched his cheek. "He's feverish. Could you get me a fever reducer—no, the green one—yeah, right there."

Harry felt his consciousness slipping again.

"Hang on kid, I'll let you sleep in moment. Can you just give me your name?"

Harry drew in a raspy breath and spoke in a voice that was barely a whisper. "Harry."

And then there was no more.

* * *

**Well, there it was! Please review and tell me your thoughts! Cuz I'd love to hear them! **


	3. Confusion

**Hello! I know it's been a while and I know I've said this before and now I'll say it again MILITARY LIFE IS CRAZY but I'm getting out in a couple weeks (hopefully if all goes well) and the updates will speed up! :) Thanks to my wonderful beta BRAIN FLUFF, who without her poking, prodding, and glorious patience and helpful thoughts and ideas, this story would not be happening right now. Enjoy!  
**

_If hope is born of suffering_

_If this is only the beginning_  
_Can we not wait for one hour_  
_Watching for a savior_

_Canon world.**************_

"Dumbledore will be angry if he knew we were here," Remus whispered, fidgeting as he stood on the tidy pathway lined with nodding daffodils leading up to the Dursley household. The sky above was rich black velvet pinned with a million stars that glittered like diamonds. The night was cool and peaceful. There was no wind blowing and no cars driving by; only silence. Remus glanced around at a pale Sirius and a sallow-faced Severus. They stood an arm distance apart, Severus with his arms crossed and Sirius with his fist clenched. Remus swallowed hard. "Look, maybe we should wait for approv—"

"Remus, shut up!" Sirius snapped suddenly, his face contorted in anger. "Just shut up!"

Remus instantly fell silent and looked away from the animagus, stung. He knew Sirius was suffering and when Sirius suffered, he lashed out. He had been going around Grimmauld in a horrible mood, breaking things, screaming at Kreacher, and picking fights with whoever he could.

"We're wasting time while you two bicker like an old married couple; the muggles could be here any minute and then we _will_ be facing Dumbledore," hissed Snape, glaring at them both with dark eyes.

Sirius swung his body to face the Potion's Master, his face twisted in disgust. Remus quickly stepped between them. "Why the hell are you here in the first place? It's not like you ever cared for Harry!" Sirius shoved Remus out of the way, who stumbled. "All you ever did was verbally abuse him his entire time at Hogwarts!"

Severus made a sneering face but kept his stony silence.

Sirius visibly bristled and moved towards the potion's master.

Remus quickly stepped in between them again and placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. Sirius shrugged him off but turned away from Severus, making his way to the front door with Remus in his wake.

Once entering, Sirius took the stairs two at a time without a word to the other two.

Remus called after him. "We'll just look around down…" a door slammed, "here."

"Pathetic," said Severus in a scathing voice, igniting his wand for some light.

Remus glanced at him but said nothing in reply. He lit his wand as well and stepped deeper into the house, his eyes slowly roving around as his impeccably neat surroundings. When he entered the kitchen, he wrinkled his nose at the sterile smell that reminded him of a muggle hospital. Besides the smell though, things looked normal—well, normal for a couple of neat- freak muggles. Feeling suddenly light-headed, he stepped over to the sink and gripped the counter, he swallowed hard, thinking he was about to get sick.

But the nausea passed quickly and Remus breathed in several deep breaths. Things had been a terrible blur these past couple days. Remus had tried his best to be supportive to Sirius and Molly and the devastated kids but there were times when Remus had to retreat to a secluded area and put his head between his knees to slow his hyperventilating. He had cared for Harry deeply, even though he didn't know the boy as well as he would have liked and the loss was hitting him hard.

After calming his racing heart, Remus moved out of the kitchen and stepped back into the hall. Severus hadn't moved much. He was standing in front of the bolted cupboard, his face sour and strained. "Now why, do you think, someone would lock their cupboard from the outside?" he asked coldly as Remus came into view.

Remus stared at him blankly. "What?"

Severus looked up at Remus with a glare before moving to unlock the cupboard. The small door swung open a crack. He used his foot to push it the rest of the way open and he didn't even hesitate before he reached inside and switched on the light.

Remus made a face at the moldy, metallic stench that wafted from the open door. He crouched down and froze, his heart skipping a beat. There, on the inside of the door, a child-sized handprint smeared across the white paint, dried brown and cracked; it was as though someone had tried hold the cupboard door open but failed. Looking further, Remus saw brown splotches on the faded carpet. A small, ratted mattress was stuffed in the corner with a flat, stained pillow propped up against the wall. Surrounding the bed were mops and brooms and other various cleaning supplies. A couple of little action figures littered the dusty shelves and child-like drawings were taped to the inside wall; drawings of a flying motorcycle, green lights, and stick figures of a man and a woman holding hands with a smaller stick figure. A teddy bear with a missing arm and no eyes was slumped against the mattress, its stitched in smile somewhat eerie-looking on its sightless face. Remus reached for the stuffed animal and was surprised to find it was covered in something dried and crusted.

_It's blood,_ he thought with a suddenly heaving chest. _It's all blood._ Remus dropped the bear and back out of the cupboard, his heart pounding. "Severus-Severus, it's _all_ blood. It's-it's _covering…_" Remus hunched over, using the wall for support, heaving several times before retching on the clean tile.

Severus said nothing for several long minutes as Remus remained doubled over, the sickening splatters of vomit the only sound in the silent house. When Remus was finished, he straightened, feeling the hammer of agony beating upon him, rocking him to the core.

"Go clean yourself up, Lupin." Severus said suddenly, his tone unforgiving and his dark eyes emotionless

Remus nodded slowly and headed back to the kitchen to splash some cold water on his face. As the cool water ran down his neck and under the collar of his shirt, Remus replayed what he had seen in his head over and over, trying to make sense of everything but not getting very far. How could this have happened? How could Harry have gone through his life like this without anybody knowing?

The panic was beginning to set in again. He twisted the knob and the water stopped running. He slowly slid down the cabinets and onto the floor, eyes unseeing, the guilt overwhelming him. He should have done something, anything. He should have fought for Harry. Lily and James had told him stories about her sister and her overweight husband and their pig of a child. He had seen the fading bruises on Harry's arms while he was teaching at Hogwarts. He had always assumed that they were from Quidditch.

How could he have been so stupid?

But the boy was a genius at hiding it. He never acted like an abused child. Harry had friends, was brave and never cowered. But the more Remus thought about it, the more he began to see. The minute flinches, the small flickers of fear in his brilliant green eyes, the impulses to jump in the face of danger with no thought of himself like he didn't care if anything happened to him.

It was all there. All right in front of him. And Remus acted as though he were blind.

"Get off the floor."

Remus gave a start and looked around to see Snape standing just inside the kitchen. His face was impassive and his eyes were darker than ever.

"I said get off the floor," he repeated firmly. "You're doing nobody good sitting there sniveling."

Remus knew he should've been insulted but he couldn't find a single cell within him to care. He couldn't care. He had failed everyone that had ever cared about him. James. Lily. Sirius. Now Harry. What the point? How could he just continue on when so much bad had happened because he failed to look closer?

Snape stalked over to his side and grabbed him by the upper arms before hauling him to his feet.

"Get a hold of yourself, werewolf!" Snape snapped. "Brush yourself off, go get your dog, and we're leaving."

"Leaving?" Remus repeated faintly. "Why?"

"Lupin, look at me!" Snape demanded, giving Remus a shake. "Potter may not be dead. We haven't found a body and the Dark Lord has made no mention of him. Until we find a body, we will believe that the brat is still alive. And you sitting here, wallowing in self-pity is not going to help him."

Remus felt anger flood his being. He ripped away from the greasy man, emotions flushing his face red. "What do you know, Severus?" he began in a rising, quivering voice. "You saw his bedroom. You saw that—that damn cupboard. They kept him in a cupboard! A child! They locked him up like an unwanted animal and I did nothing! I wasted years drowning in misery over James' and Lily's death and I let Harry slip away!"

"Just as you're doing now!" Snape exclaimed in a sudden fit of rage before quickly settling back to his impassive stance. "We need to leave."

Remus ignored him, dragging his hands down his face, giving himself a rather ghoulish look. "I did nothing while the James' son suffered in the dark."

Severus gave him no words of comfort. He only stared at him with emotionless eyes, thin lipped and uncaring. The two men stared at each other for several long minutes with nary a word spoken. Finally, Severus broke the silence.

"Are you done?"

Remus spun away from him, clenching his fists to hold back his rage. "Piss off," He growled.

Snape took a step back. "Lupin," he said in an unwavering voice. "Each moment you spend acting on your emotions is another Potter has spent lost and perhaps in_ danger_."

_He's right_, said a small voice of reason in the back of Remus' mind. _You know he is. Why are you acting so childish when you don't know if Harry is truly dead. There's still hope. There's always a little bit of hope. You owe it to Harry. You have to fight._

Remus drew in several deep breaths before turning back to the Potion's Master. "Severus, I apologize—"

"For Merlin's sake, grow a back bone, werewolf!"

Remus stared at the taller man, speechless.

"Lupin," Snape continued as though nothing had happened. "Go. Get. Black."

Remus obeyed.

* * *

_AU world ********_

"Looks like a full tropical storm blowing in," James remarked from his spot by the kitchen window.

Harry looked up from the table from where he was swirling his tea within its cup. He made a face, "Bugger, I was hoping to go for a fly," he muttered, taking a sip of his drink. "It'll be days before it's nice again."

James said nothing in reply, causing Harry to look up once more and eye his father whose eyes were distant. The artificial kitchen light floating above him drained his face of all color, so that he looked ghostly beneath his mop of untidy black hair.

"All right, there?" Harry asked, concerned.

"Just thinking," answered James, his eyes never leaving the stormy outside.

"About the kid?" Harry guessed, playing with his tea again; using his finger to swirl the contents into a mini tornado. "He hasn't woken up yet?"

"I'm keeping him heavily sedated for now; he would be in too much pain to be awake. The stress would cause his body functions to slow the healing process." James finally turned from the window and went to the stove to pour himself a cuppa. "Once his internal organs are fully healed, I'll wean him from the sedation."

"And then what?"

"What do you mean?" asked James with a furrow of his brow. He sat down across from Harry and gently blew on his tea.

"I mean, what are you going to go with him once he wakes up?" Harry elaborated. He watched as his father settled into deep thought for a several moments before speaking.

"Dunno…I'm hoping he'll tell us what's happened to him and why he looks like you." James said. "I just hope we didn't make a mistake having him here. He could be some sort of nasty trick from Voldemort or something."

"I don't think he's dangerous," Harry mused. He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his hands along his pants, before halting suddenly. "Oi, I forgot." He reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a bracelet with black, blue, and purple beads. "The kid was holding onto this when I found him and Sirius," Harry tossed the bracelet on the table and James reached for it.

"A fancy piece of jewelry? So?" James quirked an eyebrow at his son in question.

"Not just any fancy piece. Look at the beads," Harry gestured, pointing. "Those are ancient ruins carved into them."

"Huh, _bloody hell,_" James brought the bracelet close to his eyes, surprise flitting across his tired face. "You're right. I'm absolute rubbish at Ruins, though. Can you make anything of it?"

"No idea," said Harry with a grimace. He never elected to take the class while at Hogwarts but had regretted it five minutes into Divination. "But I bet it has something to do with this situation. And I bet Hermione would be able to decipher it."

"Didn't you say she's away in Spain for the summer?"

Harry shrugged. "She'll come back for this, I've no doubt."

"Who will come back?"

Both men turned to see Lily shuffle slowly into the kitchen, looking completely exhausted. She dropped into a chair and ran a hand through her frizzing red hair. Her face was pale and her eyes were heavy-lidded with exhaustion.

"Be a dear, Harry, and pour me a cup of tea. Black, please." Lily looked at her son with tired, red eyes and Harry quickly obliged.

"Lily, you should go sleep," James said gentle admonishment, placing a hand on her arm in comfort. "You look as though you'll drop dead any moment."

"I'm fine," Lily waved him off dismissively. "Just need a strong cuppa and I'll be able to go back to that poor boy."

"He's under very heavy sedation and I have an alarm on him in case his stats worsen. There's no need to sit bedside 24 hours a day." James said, gently rubbing his wife's arm as he spoke.

"He shouldn't be alone, James. He's just a child." Lily argued in a hoarse voice, a high flush suddenly on her freckled cheeks.

James wisely retreated to avoid an argument, though he continued to steal worried glances at his wife.

Harry set the tea down in front of his mother and sat down again. "You know, I can sit by him a while so you guys can get some rest." He suggested tentatively, knowing better than to take sides when his parents had any sort of disagreement.

Lily smiled faintly at him. "That's all right, I'll be fine."

Harry shrugged and drained his cup. "Well, can't say that I didn't try." He pushed his chair back and stood, stretching his arms above his head until his elbows popped. "I'm off to write a letter to Hermione; see if she can't make a side trip to us."

Lily didn't answer, seemingly trying to drown herself in her cup of tea while James offered a brief nod.

Taking his leave, Harry made his way down the hall and towards the guest bedroom. He stopped at the doorway and stared at the boy lying unconscious in the bed. His face was as white as the linen sheets and he was as still as death. Harry narrowed his eyes at the kid as he thought. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't a bit suspicious of the boy who seemed to be his identical twin. It couldn't be polyjuice for it would've worn off by now and Harry had already checked for glamours.

"I'll find you out if you're hiding anything," he whispered to the boy, who gave no response, before backing out of the room and towards the winding staircase that led him to his bedroom. His Barred Owl sat on her perch, her large dark eyes looking at him expectantly, as though she knew he was about to send off a letter.

"'ello, Baeye," he said affectionately, giving her a gentle stroke along her speckled head. "Fancy a trip to Spain?"

She hooted in response and he gave her an owl treat before heading for his cluttered desk in search of a parchment and quill.

Several hours later, Harry sprinted up the garden path in the downpour of blinding rain and through the back door, leaning his broomstick against a corner, he removed his soaking shoes and socks and tossed them on a bench in the entry way.

"It's a full gale out there!" he exclaimed, shaking out his dripping hair, walking into the kitchen to find James and Remus sitting at the table with steaming cups of tea in their hands. Lily stood at the sink, refilling another kettle to set on the stove.

"Harry, you're soaking wet!" Lily exclaimed with a hand on her hip, setting down the kettle. "You'll catch your death soaked to the bone like that. Are you a wizard or are you not?" Without waiting for a reply, she pulled out her wand and pointed it at Harry.

Harry felt his clothes instantly dry. "Thanks, mum." He took a seat next to Remus and accepted a cup from his mother. "Bloody storm, has brilliant timing."

Remus gave him a half smile and pushed the bowl of sugar towards him. He waited as Harry scooped a couple of spoonfuls of sugar into his tea before saying: "We were just talking about you."

Harry's eyebrows rose, "Well, that's not a surprise," he said with a grin. "I'm easy to talk about."

"Merlin, don't make me vomit in me tea." Willow make gagging sounds as she appeared at the other side of the kitchen, having come from the sitting room, carrying a mug. Her dark cherry red hair was in two long, messy braids and she had a smile on her round face, but her hazel eyes were tired.

"Willow, manners," Lily corrected with a shake of her head though the corner of her mouth twitched with the hint of a smile.

Willow huffed.

With a chuckle, Remus continued. "Willow had a vision earlier, only a few moments really. She said she saw two Harrys—one younger than the other. It didn't make sense to me at first until I came here and your parents told me about your surprise guest."

The table had gone still and when Harry glanced at his younger sister, he saw that she was staring at the floor and what he could see of her face was red. He knew that she had always been embarrassed of her visions and whenever they were spoken of among the family and friends, she always became flushed and silent. Despite the fact that she drove him barmy, Harry always felt for her at moments like this.

"We'll know more once he's awake and lucid enough to talk," James said as Harry continued to watch his sister shuffle her feet with downcast eyes. He wished he could think of something to say to cheer her up but nothing came to mind.

"It's all so strange isn't it?" Lily commented softly. "Are you sure he couldn't be some sort of distant cousin or Potter descendent?"

Harry looked away from Willow to see his father's response. James heaved a deep sigh and slowly shook his head. "No, Lily. The Potters have always been such a tight knit group. Everyone knows everyone else. If I had a cousin or a nephew that looked just like me or something, I would have known long before now. Besides, no Potter has green eyes like that. Except for Harry Potter."

Everyone turned to look at Harry who shrugged and grinned. "I guess I'm just special that way."

Willow let out another gagging noise while the Remus and James chuckled.

"You've been spending too much time with Sirius, Harry," Lily said with a shake of her head.

"Relax mum," Harry downed the rest of his tea and leaned back in his chair. "Just trying to lighten the mood. We already got one storm outside."

Just then Sirius came in stretching and yawning. "Damn you buggers are loud. What can a man do to get some shut eye around here?"

"That man can go to his own place," Harry's mother snipped back but stood to pour him a cup a tea anyways.

"Try not to show me too much love, Lily-pad," Sirius dragged back the last empty chair and dropped into it. He certainly looked better after a shower and some sleep. His handsome face wasn't as pale as before and the dark circles were gone. A faint line of blood showed through the bandage on his forehead but other than that he seemed as spry as ever. Sirius grabbed a scone off James' plate and dipped it into his tea before scarfing it down. When he finally finished chewing, he spoke: "How's the kid doing?"

"He's more stable than he was last night but I still have him sedated to help him rest and heal." James answered.

"Lucky kid," the animagus said. "I thought he wasn't going to last the night."

"Well, neither did I, but he's seems to be one hell of a fighter. I'm concerned about his leg though. If I had been there when the break first happened, it would be fine but now there's risk of infection, a permanent limp…he could even loose it. I sent a letter out to Severus though to see if he had potions that I don't have access to."

Sirius' face twisted in disgust and Harry could tell that it took a lot of self-control to hold back the scathing words he wanted to say about his least favorite person. Lily's warning glare probably helped.

"Well, I'm going to go check on him. Willow, you should go gather up all the candles you can find in case the muggle lights go out." He shot a playful look at his wife who flushed and swatted at his arm.

"Some things are hard to let go, ok? And it's easier when our muggle friends come over."

"And it's wonderful when all the lights go out," said Willow sarcastically as she rummaged through the pantry for candles.

"Willow," James warned but Harry laughed and rose to help her.

"I think there are some candles in the upstairs bathroom; I'll go grab them."

James and Harry ascended the stairs together, James a little more slowly than his son. Before they parted ways at the top of the stairwell, Harry asked: "Do you really think he'll be ok?"

James ran a hand through his messy hair and sighed. "He's doing better physically but I don't know what kind of mental damage was done and then there's the fact that he might be a death eater. It's all so complicated. We'll only know with time."

Harry watched his father retreat to the end of the hall with a frown on his face before heading for the bathroom, lost in thought.

* * *

_*******Two days later (canon Harry)_

Harry first became aware of the numbness spreading through the tips of his limbs. Then he was aware of the pounding of his head. Then he heard the quiet voices floating above him.

Harry opened his eyes abruptly to be greeted by a blurry, indistinct world. "Where am I?" his voice was barely a hoarse whisper. He tried to sit up but his body refused to obey and remained limp. A flash of panic made his pulse spike.

"Relax, kid," said a soothing voice somewhere to his right. "You were in a lot of pain. I'm weaning you off the strong numbing potion you've been on for the past three days and it will be a couple days longer before it wears off and you're fully mobile." A cool hand touched his forehead. "My name is James Potter and you are at my house. We thought it was best that we keep you out of St. Mungo's for now."

_James potter…James Potter…what?_

Instead of being calmed, Harry instead felt the thrumming of his heart speed up. _Why did he say James Potter?_

_James Potter? His father? _

_His father was dead._

The name sent a prickling sensation down his spine and his arms blossomed with rows of goose bumps. His insides gave him impression of being on a muggle roller coaster when the sudden dip sends your insides rolling up while the rest of you plummeted down.

Again, Harry halfheartedly tried to move but his body remained unresponsive. He could barely remember the last thing that had happened to him; everything was blurry and dark but he remembered there was fighting and death eaters and a lot of pain. Had he been captured? Was this some sort of sick joke?

"This is going to help you relax," said the gentle voice. "It'll burn for just a moment."

Harry felt it but he couldn't even flinch as the pinching of a needle slid in the flesh of his arm. Was he in a muggle hospital then? He was unsure if wizard healers used needles. He fought the foggy feeling that fell over him but it was useless.

His world floated...like a wisp of gray cloud snatched up by the wind and flung into a dark night. He tried to lift his head, to speak, to tell everyone to leave him be, but he continued to sink deeper and deeper until there was only the sound of his breathing. In…out…in…out…

And then darkness.

When Harry next resurfaced, he found that he could move his fingers and after blinking several times, he could see the room was flooded the pink and orange of an early morning sunrise. He lazily rolled his eyes around, feeling rather content to stay in this fog where there was no pain; only warmth and gentle voices.

"It's just a break in the storm," said a voice somewhere above him. It was a woman's voice. "Have you seen the town? The muggles are all boarded up in their houses."

_Muggles? _ Harry was sure he knew the word but his brain too muddled to remember what it meant.

"You're almost out of the woods, kiddo," came the familiar man's voice. "Just sleep."

And there it was again. The burning of a needle. The pressure of fluid rushing through his arm. He shivered.

Harry stared dazedly at the ceiling, watching a large spindled-legged spider slowly pick its way across the ridges of the uneven wood, in no hurry to get where ever it was going. Distantly, he thought he heard the thrum of sleeted rain beating against the window and the incessant ticking of a clock somewhere nearby. He felt the bed beneath him start to sway as the potion took hold and his body suddenly felt very heavy.

Someone started to sing and Harry closed his eyes and drifted somewhere far beyond reality.

It could have been hours, it could have been days but when Harry was next aware, he felt warm fingers pressing into the inside of his wrist. He jerked in surprise and tried to pull his arm away

"Calm down, calm down," said that same voice and a blurred face came into his eye sight. "I'm just checking your pulse."

"No—don't— ," he muttered groggily, stubbornly attempting to pull his wrist away from the unfamiliar hand. Even though his head was whirling, Harry found that he could grasp at the threads of reality a lot easier now and movement wasn't as hard.

Harry closed his eyes and shivered and listened to the sound of his heart pulsate through his head, steady and unrelenting. The hand dropped his wrist and he heard the scooting of a chair as the stranger stood.

"Next time you wake up, you'll feel normal again," came the voice, now distant and sounding as if someone was speaking to him from the other side of a double-plated window. "I'm sorry for this."

Harry groaned, struggling to keep his eyes from shutting permanently. The room had become a swamp of color and lights, dancing and shimmering with no distinct lines or shapes. A light, warm hand brushed his bangs back from his forehead. And then, for the thousandth time, he felt a needle being injected into his skin, followed by the sensation of falling backwards. For a moment, he was able to cling to the edge as he listened to the last of the voices speaking softly, brokenly in his head slowly fade into nothing, leaving his head blank and clear. It was then that he let go.

"Sleep…" said the voice. "Just sleep."

Nothing.

A soft, warm hand pressed gently to his forehead; it was soothing, tender, easing away the restless dreams tangled in his darkness. The voice that had spoken to him so often these past days, spoke close to his ear, crowding out the cloudiness and bringing him forth into a dimly lit room. At first, everything was just a blur of colors and shapes, surreal and unfamiliar. His head thudded dully, creating pressure along his temple. Harry closed his eyes to sink back into the black lake of oblivion, unwilling to bring the world to sharp focus yet no matter who was waiting on the other side. But the voice was persistent, like the buzz of an alarm clock, pushing back unconsciousness, not allowing him to slip under again.

Harry blinked once, twice and everything swirled back into a blurred focus. He blinked again, and, even though there was little light, it still stung his groggy eyes and he had to squint.

"Glasses," He croaked faintly, slowly as though drugged. He tried to lift his head but it seemed to weigh a thousand pounds.

"No," the voice contradicted soothingly, "We lost you're glasses but we'll find you another pair. Can you tell me how're you are feeling?"

"_Like Hell_..." Harry mumbled in response, closing his eyes once more.

"Sounds about right," chuckled the man.

"Hey, I might have an extra pair of glasses around here somewhere back from my Hogwart's days." Came another voice. A different voice. But a very familiar voice at the same time.

Harry shook his head, attempting to clear away the buzz of noise seeping in and out of his mind. He lifted his arm to swipe at his damp face and felt a sickening tug. He looked down. An IV was tapped to the inside of his elbow, pumping bright pink, bubbled fluid into his veins. Harry reached to pull it out but was immediately stopped.

"Don't do that. If you pull that tube out, you'll find yourself in a lot of pain. You'll still be disoriented because of the pain potion but I think you'd prefer that to what you would be feeling."

Harry was starting to feel more awake now and more alarmed by the second. "Where am I?" he asked as coherently as he could. "Where're my glasses? What'd you do with my glasses?"

"Easy there. Calm down. My son is getting you a pair of his to wear until we get your own."

"Here," said younger voice. "Let's hope these help."

Harry felt the frames pushed into his hands and he automatically pushed them onto his face. The world immediately went into sharp focus and for a moment, it hurt Harry's eyes to have everything so sharp and detailed. He closed his eyes momentarily before struggling to sit up. Hands helped him up and propped up pillows behind his back.

Harry looked around and for a moment couldn't understand what he was seeing. There a was a tall man directly to the left of the bed he was in and at far end of the room another man stood, with his hands in his pockets. And then, just inside the door stood…himself?

Harry sat frozen in shock, unable to move, unable to breathe as he stared.

But it wasn't him. It was an older him. A more mature him. Tall and muscular and tan, his stance was relaxed and confident and his brilliant green eyes watched Harry like a hawk. Harry stared back, not knowing what to say or if he was even still dreaming.

"Easy, there. It's all a bit confusing for us as well…"

Harry whipped his head at the man standing next to his bed and it was like someone had pushed him off the face of a cliff and his heart remained hovering somewhere in midair as he fell. Alarm bells went off in his head. His senses became suddenly hyperaware of everything around him. The smells, sounds, colors, and lights…everything coming into an extreme focus.

He looked just liked the pictures that Harry had in the scrapbook Hagrid had given him except older, with laugh lines and dark circles under his eyes.

"Is this some sort of sick joke?" Harry demanded, all his weariness suddenly gone. His blood ran cold. He thought he was going to pass out when he realized he was breathing in short, panicked puffs. "Who are all of you?"

"Hey, calm down. We mean you no harm. My names is James Potter this is my son, Har—"

"No!" Harry shouted. "No, James Potter is dead!" Silence. It was like someone had taken a television remote and pressed the fast-forward button while leaving him in slow motion. For a moment it was just him, his mind racing through the events that had happened this past week and what had lead up to this point—it was a like a bad movie being played over and over and over behind his closed eyelids. But he couldn't make sense of any of it. He remembered his drunk uncle and the pain and sickness. He also remembered waking up in a dark alley and there were death eaters. Death eaters.

So had been captured and this was all part of Voldemort's elaborate plan to break him before killing him.

When Harry opened his eyes, time sped up again. Without really thinking, he yanked the tube out of his arm, ignoring the flash of pain and the swell of blood. He grabbed the wand he had seen resting on the bedside table, thinking it stupid for someone to leave it there and briefly wondering where his own wand was. He felt a sweep of nausea after his feet hit the floor and the room spun around him; for a moment, he feared he would pass out. Harry stumbled, his injured leg buckling and he fell into the window curtains, barely managing to not rip them off the wall.

"Whoa!" shouted 'James' from the other side of the bed, his face a picture of surprise. He obviously hadn't expected this reaction.

Harry managed to balance himself with most of his weight on his good leg and he pointed the stolen wand at the impersonator. "Stay back," he shouted, swaying, shivering. "If you come any closer I'll-I'll hurt you!"

"Hey, now!" said the other man and Harry jerked to see yet another doppelganger stepping towards him. Except this one was his godfather. A younger, more handsome one without the lines and scars of Azkaban.

His body felt as though it had been shocked. Harry looked around wildly for a moment-at 'James' and 'Sirius', at the watercolor painting hanging from the wall, at this other self, than at the ceiling which had begun to lurch and sway.

Harry's breathing dragged his shoulders up, then down. His head cleared, then fogged again. Yellow slid across the back of his eyelids, first in dots, then in waves. The wand in his hand quivered. "Back. Up!" He shouted again, jabbing his wand at 'Sirius' who immediately raised his hands in the air as a sign of surrender.

"Look, boy—" he started.

"Harry!" Harry interrupted, his voice an octave higher than usual, cracking under the stress. "My name is Harry! Not _boy!_"

'Sirius' and Harry's doppelganger made brief eye contact but then made no other move.

"I get it," Harry continued. "I know this some sort of perverted game and I'm done. Tell Voldemort he's not-not going to get me this time. There are probably tons of people already out there looking for me!"

"Listen, Harry," 'James' began in a slow voice. "We have no idea what you're talking about. No one here has to get hurt. Just put down my wand and lets talk this out."

"Say all you want!" Harry shouted, sparks spitting from the tip of the wand. "But I know you are not James Potter! James Potter is dead! He died eleven years ago!"

Confusion flitted across the man's face

"What's going on here?" came an alarmed voice from the doorway. A woman, slender and pretty, appeared. Her red hair was pulled into a loose bun and her cheeks and upper arms were sprinkled with many freckles. Her eyes, as green as Harry's, surveyed the scene.

"Sweetie," She said gently, sweetly, her eyes very sincere. "Sweetie, lower the wand and let us talk this out."

Something inside Harry snapped. Anger flooded him like tiny needles rushing through his veins. He lurched forward unsteadily, wand erect, straight for woman who dared take his mum's form.

But someone blocked his way and he found himself at wand point by his own older self, menacing green eyes, like hard jewels, stared him down.

"Stand down, kid." He spoke softly but the warning in his voice was quite clear.

"Harry, lower your wand." 'James's' voice was very tense this time.

"No!" They said in unison. Harry trembled as he stared at himself, then at the woman who was so much like his mum who stood at the door, her face scared and pale.

"Look, kid," said his older self. "We have no affiliation with Voldemort. That man over there is James Potter and he is very much alive and my father. The woman behind me? She's my mum, Lily Potter. And I don't care if you're some scrawny fuckwit but you don't ever point a wand meaning harm towards my family again."

Harry gritted his teeth, his heart sped off like a runaway train with no hope of stopping. His head grew hot and his skin went cold. "No!" His voice exploded out of him. His brashness surprised him. "No! James and Lily Potter are _my _parents! They died when I was one year old, Halloween night, Godric's Hollow. Voldemort murdered them! And now he wants me and this is _not _the way it's going to happen! He will not break me like this!"

The other Harry stared at him, his eyebrows crinkled, his face unnaturally still as he studied his younger self.

All the fuzziness in Harry's brain had disappeared and in it's place, the pain was returning. At first it was just sharp, occasional spikes that shot up his leg and easily ignored but as the minutes ticked by with the room in tense, frozen silence, the pain was starting to become excruciating and unbearable. Sweat rolled down his back and an airy sort of light headedness took hold.

Harry watched as his other self relaxed slightly, perhaps it was because he himself was beginning to crumble or maybe he realized his ruse was up. But Harry kept his wand firm and straight.

"Harry," it was 'James' again. "Please. Sit down. Let us help you and we'll figure everything out. You're going to hurt yourself."

Harry ignored the man but he couldn't ignore the pain. He struggled to hide it. He couldn't let these people see he was weak but then finally it hit him full force. It was intense, like icy fire crawling shooting up his leg than through his stomach and chest. Harry recoiled from it, shuddering, gasping, his entire body sagging. Hands were there to catch him. Harry squeezed his eyes shut, seeing pinpricks of white light spiraling in his vision and a groan, deep and unearthly, broke from his throat. He welcomed the pricking of a needle and rush of potion up into his arm.

Unconsciousness greeted him like an old friend.

* * *

**It would be lovely if you left me a review! Already working on the next and hope that it will be updated in the next couple weeks! Thank you everyone! **

**Until next time and Happy Literacy!**

**Story2Tell**


End file.
